Savannah

Car Karma & Fridays that Act Like Mondays

August 14, 2017

I had a premonition that as soon as we sold my car, something was going to happen to Tony’s and on the ride back from the bank, where we deposited the cash from the car sale, the premonition began to come true. We had just crossed the state line back into Louisiana (Wells Fargo’s closest location to us is in Mississippi) and the air conditioner stopped blowing cold air for good.

The next day Tony, being the champion that he is, researched the problem, bought a part, and after getting off work at 5 pm, managed to get the entire thing repaired and working just as the sun went down. We celebrated with Chinese takeout, which was not delicious and inspired my creation of lo mein and sweet fire chicken which I do declare trumps all takeout I’ve ever had.

August 25, 2017:

A few days after Tony (bless his heart) fixed the air conditioner, I was enjoying the cool air on my way to cover a guest shift at the District Donuts on Magazine St. which is a good deal further away from home than the one I normally work at.

traffic was bad and I was running late so I was glad of a parking spot on a neighborhood street close by. I threw the Suburban in park and darted off to District.

I was covering a shift on the register that day and the eight hours flew by in a blur of donut glaze and large parties that would rattle off thirty items in a row at you ending with a huff of bad breath.

District’s policy is to read the customer’s order back to them and I did so with relish, huffing coffee breath right back. Finally, at the end of my eight hours, I exited the shop, hungry and dehydrated having munched on a few sticks of celery, had two espressos and very little water for the duration of the day.

I trudged to the car, hopped in and cranked the engine, which clicked at me condescendingly and then died. I glared at the headlights that I’d forgotten to turn off in my morning hurry, then back to District I trotted to find someone with a working vehicle.

The on-shift manager kindly wedged his car as close to mine as possible, effectively blocking the entire street while I tried to jump the ole burban. After a few tries with no success he headed off to his Friday night and I called an Uber. The driver was a female about my age and she let the meter run and watched wide-eyed while I tried to jump the burban a few more times. No luck and off she went as well. I then called Tony who was car-less and stuck on a call with a client and said he would call me shortly and that we probably needed a new battery.

I decided to kill the time by walking to the nearest Walmart, a half mile away, thinking I’d just pick up the battery and bring it back to the car. I got to the automotive section and realized I didn’t know what kind of battery the suburban needed and that would have been a prudent thing to check on while the hood was up. So back to the car I walked, thinking nasty thoughts about rude customers and feeling sorry for myself and my low blood sugar. I took a photo of the battery and sent it to Tony who biked to an AutoZone, purchased the battery and carried the heavy sucker in a backpack on his bicycle all the way to where I was stuck, nearly an 8-mile ride through Friday night traffic.I went back to District to get us some food while he installed the battery, as he hadn’t eaten all day either and it was now nearly 8:00 pm. By the time I got back he had the battery in and the car started. The obvious next step was to buy beer on the way home and we arrived home and ate our donuts over the counter, washing it down with beer and the knowledge that it could have been much worse. Cheers to car troubles and Fridays that behave like a Monday, may we always have the calories and patience to endure.

August 14, 2017

I had a premonition that as soon as we sold my car, something was going to happen to Tony’s and on the ride back from the bank, where we deposited the cash from the car sale, the premonition began to come true. We had just crossed the state line back into Louisiana (Wells Fargo’s closest location to us is in Mississippi) and the air conditioner stopped blowing cold air for good.

The next day Tony, being the champion that he is, researched the problem, bought a part, and after getting off work at 5 pm, managed to get the entire thing repaired and working just as the sun went down. We celebrated with Chinese takeout, which was not delicious and inspired my creation of lo mein and sweet fire chicken which I do declare trumps all takeout I’ve ever had.

August 25, 2017

A few days after Tony (bless his heart) fixed the air conditioner, I was enjoying the cool air on my way to cover a guest shift at the District Donuts on Magazine St. which is a good deal further away from home than the one I normally work at.

traffic was bad and I was running late so I was glad of a parking spot on a neighborhood street close by. I threw the Suburban in park and darted off to District.

I was covering a shift on the register that day and the eight hours flew by in a blur of donut glaze and large parties that would rattle off thirty items in a row at you ending with a huff of bad breath.

District’s policy is to read the customer’s order back to them and I did so with relish, huffing coffee breath right back. Finally, at the end of my eight hours, I exited the shop, hungry and dehydrated having munched on a few sticks of celery, had two espressos and very little water for the duration of the day.

I trudged to the car, hopped in and cranked the engine, which clicked at me condescendingly and then died. I glared at the headlights that I’d forgotten to turn off in my morning hurry, then back to District I trotted to find someone with a working vehicle.

The on-shift manager kindly wedged his car as close to mine as possible, effectively blocking the entire street while I tried to jump the ole burban. After a few tries with no success he headed off to his Friday night and I called an Uber. The driver was a female about my age and she let the meter run and watched wide-eyed while I tried to jump the burban a few more times. No luck and off she went as well. I then called Tony who was car-less and stuck on a call with a client and said he would call me shortly and that we probably needed a new battery.

I decided to kill the time by walking to the nearest Walmart, a half mile away, thinking I’d just pick up the battery and bring it back to the car. I got to the automotive section and realized I didn’t know what kind of battery the suburban needed and that would have been a prudent thing to check on while the hood was up. So back to the car I walked, thinking nasty thoughts about rude customers and feeling sorry for myself and my low blood sugar. I took a photo of the battery and sent it to Tony who biked to an AutoZone, purchased the battery and carried the heavy sucker in a backpack on his bicycle all the way to where I was stuck, nearly an 8-mile ride through Friday night traffic.

I went back to District to get us some food while he installed the battery, as he hadn’t eaten all day either and it was now nearly 8:00 pm. By the time I got back he had the battery in and the car started. The obvious next step was to buy beer on the way home and we arrived home and ate our donuts over the counter, washing it down with beer and the knowledge that it could have been much worse. Cheers to car troubles and Fridays that behave like a Monday, may we always have the calories and patience to endure.